


Solace

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Cousin Incest, Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 20:45:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15372975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Maedhros still has a home in Fingon’s bed.





	Solace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EdgeOfLight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgeOfLight/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for Edgeoflight’s “Fingon/Maedhros [a kiss in relief]” request on [my tumblr list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/176075204220/prompt-list).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Silmarillion or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

For the last leg of the journey, Maedhros is balanced on top, riding Fingon with everything he has. He splays the five fingers he has left across Fingon’s chest and _feels_ Fingon breathe, feels Fingon’s heartbeat. Fingon’s hands dig into his hips and follow every movement. Maedhros can’t take his eyes away from Fingon’s face. Fingon’s always been so _handsome_ , but in these moments, just between the two of them, passionate and intimate, Fingon’s beauty is unparalleled. It drives Maedhros on with merciless fire— _he missed this._

It isn’t so much the wild sex as the look in Fingon’s eyes that pulls Maedhros over the edge. He comes with a battle cry, his voice hoarser than ever and hips stuttering—he’s lost all his grace. Fingon doesn’t seem to mind. He follows shortly, moaning wondrously and arching up into Maedhros’ body. That rush of _heat_ is everything. Maedhros clenches around him and rides him out, so desperately in love.

When it’s over, when every last drop has been spilled inside him and splashed over Fingon’s chest, Maedhros slumps brokenly forward. Their frenzied sex took everything out of him. Fingon has to help him off, and then Maedhros collapses, down into the sweat-slicked sheets of Fingon’s bed. For a moment, he can do nothing but pant and tremble. Fingon’s gaze is still hazy and far-off. His skin is still prettily flushed, his hair a gorgeous fan around him. It’s still as long and luxurious as it was when they were young, and Maedhros first stole a kiss at the top of his father’s stairs.

They’ve come so far from that. Fingon is marginally taller—still nowhere near Maedhros’ height—a tad broader, heavier, more toned with hard muscle. But he’s every bit as beautiful. It’s Maedhros that’s shattered. His own hair is a ruddy, tattered mess of fraying and shorn ends, one ear half gone and most of him swathed in scars. His missing hand is the worst of it, but there’s no part of him that’s truly _better_. He’s a mess, and he knows it. 

Drowning in that knowledge, Maedhros rolls over just enough to brush a tender kiss over Fingon’s lips. Their varying positions prevented that throughout their session, and at first, Maedhros wasn’t sure it would happen anyway—wasn’t sure that Fingon would still want something as petty and unfulfilling as mere kisses. But Fingon presses into him now, then slumps back into the pillow and sighs contentedly, “What was _that_ for?”

“Relief,” Maedhros answers. The entire night has been full of that. Fingon lifts one dark brow, clearly inviting further explanation. Unable to deny him anything, Maedhros provides it. Maedhros elaborates in its simplicity: “I am not just relieved to be free, and to be back with you, but to find that even in this state, battered and ugly as I am, you can still make love to me.”

The pleasure falls right off of Fingon’s face. Maedhros instantly regrets opening his mouth. He can see Fingon’s heart breaking all over again, as has happened far too much since Thangorodrim. Fingon rolls half onto him, swamping him again in that palpable affection that comes with Fingon’s touch. Lifting a hand to caress Maedhros’ cheek, Fingon promises, “You are not ugly, my Nelyo. You are still more attractive to me than anyone I have ever seen, and you must know that I love you wholly no matter what you should look like. The Valar can do what they like, but even they cannot keep me from you, and so long as I have a bed to call my own, it is also yours.”

Maedhros almost lets out a bitter laugh. He knows it—he trusts it. He _felt_ Fingon’s love tonight, and that, at least—the emotional, non-physical aspect—he had never doubted. He can think of nothing else to do but given Fingon another kiss, and this one Fingon fills with all the fervour of his love.


End file.
